Living With the Dead: This New Disease (Book 5) (14 page)

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
We
of New Haven are fiercely protective of our home, but we need a break
from fighting. Even though I haven't been able to do any actual
fighting I include myself because we're all at risk. We've got enough
able bodies to defend New Haven in a pinch, but that's manning the
walls with people who'd be risking popped stitches.
I'm
keeping it short and sweet this morning as I've had virtually no
sleep. I've done what I could to help around the clinic the last few
days. There are a couple people who've taken injuries that have
become infected, and many more taking up space as they're observed.
Not much room at the clinic now, so I'm going home this morning. I'm
still not allowed to do much in the way of heavy lifting, but I can
not do that at my house. Still have to check in regularly and have my
incision looked at, dressings changed and the like.
We're a
community of the walking wounded. It's a sight to see. I may have
played it cool with the assault the other day, but it's not pretty.
People are hurt and in need of quiet time to heal. If life were like
the movies, we'd get just enough of it before the climactic final
battle.
But we've had to repel small zombie attacks even since
the major assault. Spring brings increased zombie movement across the
world, and the old school undead never really stop. They're not as
dangerous as the New Breed, of course, but far more numerous. They
drift across the landscape like dandelion fluff in a strong breeze,
making our guards work in the process.
I'm so
tired. 
We're 
tired.
There's no chance of respite from life. We have to keep manning the
guns and defending our home. No way around it. Even as we work with
George to finalize plans to bring his people here, which will be a
huge help, we struggle. Knowing that help is coming doesn't change
the work we have to do in the meantime.
We're almost incapable
of giving up. We'll struggle through. No matter how hard it gets.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
George
and his people are making their way here. We've had to up the
timetable given our recent setbacks and injuries, so we're getting a
lot of frantic work done very quickly in preparation. It's not easy
on our injured, but there isn't a lot of choice. The area where
George and his people live is facing increased zombie swarms just
like everyone else. They've got a nce barrier at their base, but
sections of it are made from the shipping containers they're planning
on bringing here.
Those are the last ones George and his
people will bring here, obviously. Can't hang around when you're
snatching pieces of your defensive barrier away.
The Exiles
are seeing a marked increase in wayward zombies as well. They've been
dealing with the attacks in a totally different way than we do since
they haven't the same layers of protection. Without a wall they can't
manage a classical defense of the fallback point, so they hole up in
their buildings and use raw firepower to mow down the undead that
come upon them.
The terms of the truce mean that we couldn't
lead any zombies toward them even if there were a bridge within
twenty miles that wasn't destroyed, but that doesn't mean I can't
wish them all kinds of fun handling the undead. I feel bad thinking
that way, because there must be some people on the other side of the
river that are decent folks (a thought I wouldn't have entertained at
all a few months ago), but it isn't one I can avoid. After hearing
the horrible description of how Scar (what we call their leader)
killed a friendly guard, I have a hard time actually feeling pity for
them.
It's an interesting study in differences. Here, we use a
lot of homemade weapons that we can essentially reproduce at will.
Less effective than gunfire but sustainable over a long period of
time. The Exiles don't have a wall that compares to ours, so they
turtle up in the high buildings of the fallback point and rain
bullets down upon the swarms of undead. I've spent a lot of time
working with people here to assure our methods are passed around and
taught to others, so we don't lose our capacity to make bows and
arrows should a small handful of people die. I don't see that
happening with the Exiles.
We've got walking wounded
everywhere, working to make sure New Haven is ready when George and
his people start making deliveries on the river. Hopefully they'll
bring it all on one trip if they've managed to wrangle enough barges
and boats. The Exiles don't seem to do much for their future aside
from farming. None of our watchers have seen them making weapons or
trying to create their own goods.
George and his river rats
know that strength is in numbers and that long-term survival lies
with choosing to trust. That's hard to do, but New Haven and many
other bands of survivors have managed it. The Exiles haven't, nor
have many of the remaining marauders across the countryside. When I
walk (carefully, as I don't want to injure the incision in my belly)
around New Haven, I see people who might have totally different ideas
on god or morality or whatever working together. They tell jokes and
help one another. Sometimes they work in silence and cast irritated
stares. But they do it. They trust.
Though the Exiles have put
up barriers that make it hard to see inside the fallback point, we
can still see enough of them to know they're a different beast
altogether. People there don't cooperate much, don't seem to have any
kind of normal life. The other side of the river seems more like a
refugee camp in some third-world country, full of people too
frightened of each other to muster the will to overcome that feeling.
It's sad. Really and truly. Especially because our watchers have
begun to catch sight of kids over there.
Kids. With the
Exiles. It's going to get easier, knowing that, to feel bad when they
lose folk to zombies or starvation or illness. Children tend to crack
the hard armor around our hearts.
George and his people will
be here soon. I'm off to do what I can to manage the preparations.
I'll try to keep my mind on business, but I can't help thinking about
huddled kids living in fear of men like Scar.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
I
haven't gotten into the different signals we use to alert the
citizens of New Haven about things, mostly because it's not that
important and is actually kind of boring. I've mentioned that we ring
the bells a given number of times based on how many zombies we
estimate are coming at us but haven't gone much past that.
So
you know, a constant ringing bell means incoming people. The living
kind.
We have ways to differentiate between hostiles and
friendlies, and this morning I woke up to the sound of a single bell
ringing steadily for ten seconds. It was expected, since today is a
trade day. What none of us saw coming was the large number of people
that came with the caravan.
We've been in touch with the folks
we trade with to let them know what kinds of things we'll be looking
for as we work on the expansion. Franklin county has a lot of
resources we can salvage for the new section, but some items are a
bit harder to find. We've also made it clear that given our recent
troubles there might be some small delays or shortages in shipments.
So, with the explanation that they're just protecting an investment,
a dozen of the groups we trade with sent people to help us
out.
There are sixty of them, and they'll be here for several
days. Normally the caravans only stay a short time, but this one is
large and vitally important: a huge supply of homemade gauze and
topical antibiotics, the first large order of the spring. Lots of
people have had as hard a time with zombies as we have, and there are
many injured who need dressings and medicine. It's worth the wait for
them to make sure we've got enough product ready to meet their
needs.
In practical terms, this means that we've got enough
people to ensure our readiness for the arrival of George and his
people 
and 
manage
everything else in the pipeline. Our goods can be produced, our walls
patrolled, and all the other details that need to be seen to don't
have to suffer from lack of manpower. It's going to be busy and
difficult to organize, but we'll make it work. We'd be idiots to
screw up free help from folks who're willing to put in long hours out
of the goodness of their hearts.
That, and I'm sure they
really do want to make certain we don't all die and stop trading with
them. Completely reasonable.
It's going to be a busy morning.
I'm in charge of the group preparing our dock site where George and
his people will be unloading, as well as organizing fuel and
disposition of our heavy machinery, which we'll need to haul and
place the shipping containers.
If all goes according to plan,
they'll be here tonight. It's not that long a trip by river. I
haven't been entirely honest about the timetable, mostly because I
didn't want anyone to get ideas about looking for George's group.
Misdirection is the best way to make sure attacks don't happen when
you suspect assholes may take advantage of transitions.
The
number of assholes in the world today is pretty damn high, too. I
don't doubt for a second that there are people out there who would
have hit George's group like the fist of god if they knew his people
would be distracted and frantic with executing their trip here.
If
we can get all this work done without any major incidents, we should
be set for the near future. There aren't any other big projects to go
on about, and the new wall made of shipping containers will make work
inside the expansion safe and much easier than we planned. I'm
excited. Everyone here is.
Our sincere and infinite thanks to
every volunteer who came here to help. Whatever your reasons, you're
fine people for doing it, and I love each of you now.

Posted
by 
Josh
Guess
George's
river convoy is going to be here shortly. They were moving down the
river at a good clip but decided to stop (which isn't easy to do with
a bunch of barges and a couple large boats) last night to rest before
arriving here. No great mystery to it--those people worked their
asses off getting everything ready to come here. They needed time to
rest before the major work begins.
That's good for two
reasons. The Exiles spent a good chunk of last night patrolling along
the river over large stretches and in big groups. I can't say for
sure they were trying to find and intercept George's flotilla, but I
don't think it could possibly be coincidence. We could sit here
theorizing all day long about what their intentions may have been,
but since any action against George's people would violate the truce,
I'll leave speculation up to you. I don't know that the Exiles would
risk it.
And since it's a moot point anyway, I can move on.
The other reason this was a good thing is because we needed the time
to get ready. Even with our surprise volunteers working all day to
help us get ready, there just wasn't enough time. You'd think there
wouldn't be a lot of prep work needed for a patch of ground, and you
would be right. But there's also setting up food and housing for
those people (and the volunteers as well, together a logistical
nightmare) and ensuring everyone who'll be hauling shipping
containers from the rendezvous knows the game plan. AND setting up
the heavy equipment needed to move the damn things around, which
includes a crane that's going to eat up a huge chunk of our remaining
diesel fuel.
Oh, and the goddamn zombies.
I mean, what
the hell is the deal with them? You send out a few dozen living
people--happy meals on two feet--into the open to work on flattening
the earth and laying out new spray-paint lines to show where things
need to go, and suddenly the undead think it's a good idea to rush
well-armed and irritable guards.
None of the attacks were by
themselves very dangerous, but they added up to a ton of lost time
yesterday. They came in small clusters, mostly old school zombies
wandering into view of New Haven for the first (and last) time. The
numbers just keep growing day to day as the weather warms, though the
more recent undead have looked rougher than usual.
It's
sometimes easy to forget that we've been fighting them for two years.
The change in them has been so gradual that if you don't focus on it
you can miss the signs completely. Two years of shuffling around the
country, never rotting but never healing, either. Wear and tear ruins
their hair and clothes, though for some reason their feet never seem
to suffer too badly. Many of the ones our people took down yesterday
had dozens of small wounds and seemed...damaged somehow. Injuries
typically don't slow a zombie down, but these ones were sluggish to a
man, weak, and probably intensely hungry. After so much time foraging
for prey, I'd think that most of the easy game out in the world has
been devoured. Say what you will about the zombie plague, but it has
done wonders for Darwinism. The wild animals that are left must be
the strongest, smartest, best survivors the natural world has to
offer.
Kind of like the people that are left, I suppose.
I've
asked to have a few of the zombies killed yesterday brought to the
cell where we kept our test subject zombies. I can't do a lot right
now, but cutting a few of them open to see how starved they were
isn't physically draining. Call it very morbid curiosity.
Not
long now before our new arrivals...arrive. Yeah. I'm running on
little sleep and too much excitement. It's a big day. Let's hope all
goes well.